ICEBREAKER - The Complete Short Story
Riker Takes on ICE in Minneapolis
February, 2026
Chapter One
"Did you not learn?"
This is the question which keeps running through my mind as I disembark at the Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport.
Gate 10 to be precise, restarting my cell phone so as to connect to local towers as I make my way towards the terminal, that pompous, threatening echo from the covered face of an ICE agent via tiktok igniting my heart to pulsate like a war drum, its reverberations telling my soul I indeed need to step in and do something.
I'm not political, having no desire to lean towards one extreme nor the other. I've always found myself attracted to balance. The middle way.
Speaking of equilibrium, just as I enter the terminal, my phone notifies me of news I am following. A journey to Washington. D. C., taken on foot by Buddhist monks who started off in Texas, their crusade being called a Walk for Peace.
These men of peace have been on the road for ninety-nine days now, soon to be in walking distance of the U.S. Capitol.
Yeah, my humor can be quite dry.
But the real irony lies within the signs of the times. On this side, the Land of 10,000 Lakes currently, has tens of thousands of protesters filling its streets giving voice to their outrage against tyranny. While over in D.C. nineteen simple monks will be addressing thousands of listeners amongst the steps of the U.S. Capital, and millions globally via screens.
One should ask themselves, did these men of truth somehow know we were on the doorstep of darker days? That their unassertive walk for peace would so closely coincide with our blind walk towards an iron fist?
I don't know.
What I do know is that I am no monk, and I'm about to prove it.
Chapter Two
As the monks make their way up East Capitol to the People's House thousands have lined the street to experience this historical moment in time.
Many of them have tears in their eyes, the significance hitting them spiritually as they behold with their own eyes what they have only heard about and seen on screens.
These simple men in their simple robes, a great number of them ending there twenty three hundred mile journey with little or no protection on their feet despite the frigid weather.
A few disabled spectators are among the masses, the monks stopping for these warriors of circumstance to offer their support, their understanding, their peace in the form of chants which express such.
From a bird's eye view the flow of flowers is mesmerizing, several of the gatherers throughout handing off these blossomed tokens of peace to the monks, they themselves transferring the flowers to the empty handed further up the path, in this symbolic exchange of peace.
Chapter Three
I had my Uber driver drop me off in Dinkytown, an area neighboring the University of Minnesota.
The weather has warmed up some compared to previous days, but it's still cold enough to justify the ski mask I place over my head.
The first hour or so is spent roaming. The pockets here and there of protesters and ICE maggots have an air of simmering,
Actually, I shouldn't say maggots, because larvae have a purpose, as they help decompose waste for nature. These so-called law enforcement officers, on the other hand, have proven themselves to be outright bullies. Murderers.
Their form of injustice, something I simply cannot stand by and just watch.
This is by no means saying I am against actual law enforcement. Anyone who knows my past knows that I was a Police Explorer at a young age, and later tried to enter the academy, the one thing holding me back being the fact that I was shot while on a ride along.
I had come back stronger than ever , but was still labeled, 'a liability', so instead of carrying a LAPD badge I have a California Bureau of Security and Investigative Services Card.
In other words, I'm a private investigator.
I was practically raised by cops, though. When I joined the police explorers, a detective took me under his wing like a father figure, and when I got injured he and his buddies, both on the force and those in government agencies, helped lay the foundation to my training.
So yeah, I really do have respect for those who serve and protect. But these ICE fucks, they're anything but.
I settle on the largest group of protesters, for the more numbers there are, the more confusion there will be.
And so I merge in, adding my voice every now and then to blend in, until I start to feel tempers reaching their boiling point.
This is my cue to pull the strings of outrage, shouting out the names, "RENEE," and "ALEX", followed by, "JUSTICE!"
Once the crowd takes over the chant the energy of it starts to move us forward, ICE hyped up and ready to show some aggression
I've positioned myself near the back of the protesters for a reason, inconspicuously launching a medium-sized snowball up-and-over them so as to find its intended target.
This, of course, turns up the heat, some thugs reaching for pepper spray, while others go for their smoke devices.
The latter is the opportunity I've been waiting for, having roughly sixty seconds of cloak time per canister to unleash my assault.
I slip amongst the opposing side quite low, gliding in by the side of one disoriented agent to the next, like a dance
as I pull the pins to the canisters on their equipment belts.
With confusion now ignited, I go ahead and rip one of the pepper spray canisters from a hand that has taken aim, using its durable metal base to slam into the mouth of the one who wields it, teeth shattering below its force.
The teeth of the excessive enforcer have nowhere to go, face mask preventing them from being spit out.
On to the next, this time the opportunity presented to me being that of a nose, flattening it out with a downward strike of the can, the agent virtually blinded with blood spatter and tears.
Opportunity. This is one of the key components in successful combat. Knowing when to take advantage of an opportunity when an adversary is essentially inviting you to take it.
Of course this is done unbeknownst to them, but with their lack of proper training, these fucks might as well be serving it on a silver platter.
My internal clock is telling me I still have several lessons of justice to instill while the hands of time dilation tick away before the smoke dissipates.
Chapter Four
The massive crowd has settled, just as impressive as the domed structure before them, these two immense sights still somehow not as radiant as the simple men between them.
The leader of the monks steps forward and begins to address the crowd with their message of peace.
Chapter Five
The smoke has eased, as have tempers, with perplexity now having taken over the scene, ICE reflecting the losing side of a bloody battle.
The crowd has nearly quadrupled, countless cellphones capturing the aftermath of this one minute war.
Starting with one voice, the silence is broken, others then joining in to return to the unified chant of, "RENEE, ALEX, JUSTICE."
Within seconds it's nearly deafening, the thundering voices acting as the perfect soundtrack as footage is now being captured by a news team now on scene, documenting for the world to see the ICE agents scurrying about in an act of disarray, struggling to help one another into government vehicles and flee.
Learn, I say in my mind from a distance.
I know they will weaken from this experience.
Morale.
Organization.
Tyrannic energy.
All being disrupted, with a number of these foolish foot soldiers beginning to question their role in the history-making events we are now living through.
I now turn to the crowds, my silent message from a distance now for them.
I'm among you, and will remain until ICE IS OUT.
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